


I Call Shotgun

by FredAndGinger



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Blow Jobs, God my first bmc fic and its a porn, I don't even write it in my real fics unless its AWFUL, I never even write porn, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shotgunning, forgive me Father for I have sinned, i like to believe its post squip but whatever, so it can be taken as post or pre squip, there's no mention of the events of the musical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 12:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FredAndGinger/pseuds/FredAndGinger
Summary: “But… I heard of this thing, on the internet…” Jeremy trailed off.“Oh pray tell, what wisdom did the internet have to offer?” Michael asked dramatically, clawing his way back up onto his own beanbag.“It was called shotgunning.”They get stoned in Michael's basement.





	I Call Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpinalBaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpinalBaby/gifts).



> Guys. Guys why am I writing this. Why didn't someone stop me? I blame you, SpinalBaby.

Michael rolled out of his beanbag chair, choking back laughter and wiping his eyes as Jeremy coughed. He hit the floor, still laughing, crawled to Jeremy, and took the pipe out of his hands, careful not to spill the remaining weed everywhere. 

“You suck at breathing, dude.” Michael gasped, laughing at his own joke, “You suck so hard that you can’t suck.” 

“You’re really high.” Jeremy commented, judgmentally watching from his semi-sober high horse. Michael snorted. 

“That’s not the problem. The problem is that you’re _not_ high, that’s the problem,” he frowned, “How many times did I just say problem?” 

Jeremy, terrible friend that he was, totally ignored him, flopping back on his bean bag chair. 

“Michael,” he whined, “why can’t you just do it for me?” 

“I mean we tried that, it didn’t work.” Michael pointed out. It was true, he and Jeremy had tried to share a hit, where they breathed it through their joined hands. It hadn’t worked out. 

“But… I heard of this thing, on the internet…” Jeremy trailed off. 

“Oh pray tell, what wisdom did the internet have to offer?” Michael asked dramatically, clawing his way back up onto his own beanbag. 

“It was called shotgunning.” 

Michael suddenly wished that he was no longer on his beanbag so that he could sink into the floor. He’d heard of shotgunning before, of course he’d heard of shotgunning before. What self-respecting stoner hadn’t? He just never thought… Jeremy would never want to… 

“Yeah?” He asked, hoping his voice didn’t squeak too much. His hopes were too high. 

“It’s, um… it’s like CPR.” Jeremy explained awkwardly, not looking at him, “It just… it looked easier-- I’m sorry, it’s dumb--” 

“No! No, if you… if you think it’s a good idea, we could try it…” 

“Yo-You really want to?” 

“Yeah man! You’ve got to be as high as me, you chipped in for half this bag.” Michael grinned, praying that he wasn’t coming across as too eager. This was fine, he would get to put his mouth on his crush’s mouth. He could do this. 

Michael got up and sat on Jeremy’s bean bag, so they’d be close enough. He picked up the pipe and his lighter, and looked back at his best friend. 

“Ready?” He asked, pipe almost up to his lips. If he hadn’t known better, he’d say Jeremy looked… transfixed. 

_It’s probably the contact high._

Jeremy nodded. Michael took his hit and scooted closer, putting his hand on the back of Jeremy’s neck and pulling him in. He hesitated a moment, and then dove in, pressing their lips together. 

Michael almost forgot to open his mouth, almost forgot to exhale, almost forgot the reason behind this. He didn’t though, and he breathed the smoke into Jeremy’s mouth. He felt Jeremy inhale, his hand still on the back of his neck, keeping him from pulling away. 

Michael dropped his hand and drew back a few inches, an easy smile making its way back to his lips. If he was asked about it later, he’d blame it on the weed. Jeremy exhaled, before before he broke into giggles. 

Michael laughed with him, even though he didn’t know _why_ , and they were so close, he could just close the gap and they’d be touching again, and he _wanted_ , and-

“Michael?” Jeremy asked, when they stopped laughing, “Can you do that again?” 

And fuck, Michael wasn’t about to say _no_. So he nodded and brought the pipe to his lips once more, taking another long drag. This time, when he leaned in, Jeremy closed his eyes like this was going to be a kiss, his lips half parted. 

Their lips met once more, softer now that Michael had more confidence that Jeremy didn’t care that he was doing this. His hand found Jeremy’s shoulder and Jeremy’s hand slipped into his hair. He exhaled a little too quickly at that, at the feeling of Jeremy’s fingers lightly twisting through his hair. 

Jeremy pulled back, but his hands were still in Michael’s hair. He let the breath go and his face went all soft in Michael’s vision, obscured by the smoke. Jeremy smiled sweetly at him through the cloud and leaned in, capturing Michael’s lips in a kiss. 

Michael was almost too shocked to do anything about it, but his slow weed-brain kicked in a moment later, prompting him to kiss back, to pull Jeremy closer, to do anything that would convey to his friend all the _yes_ he was feeling. 

Jeremy opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. Michael had never been party to a kiss like this before in his life and he wasn’t sure what he was doing but he’d be damned if he wasn’t giving it his all. He sucked on Jeremy’s bottom lip like he’d seen in the movies and the other boy moaned so he must have been doing _something_ right, when Jeremy leaned back, pulling Michael down on top of him. 

“Mmm… Michael…” Jeremy hummed once they’d parted. Michael had made it his new life goal to kiss every inch of Jeremy’s face, and he was so focused on that that he hardly heard. “Michael.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, pausing in his quest. Jeremy untangled one of his hands from Michael’s hair so he could touch his face, drawing his thumb across the other boy’s lips. Michael opened his mouth, sucking on the finger. Jeremy made a choked noise. 

“Michael, I want you.” Jeremy whispered, like it was some kind of secret _thing_ that he was supposed to be ashamed of. Michael stopped sucking on his finger. 

“You have me, Jere,” He said leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Jeremy’s lips, “You’ve always had me. Can I go down on you?” 

Jeremy squeaked, “What?” 

“I want to blow you.” Michael reiterated, trying to be clear. Jeremy looked like he’d ascended to another plane, the poor dude. The fact that Michael had ducked down and recaptured one of his fingers in his mouth, emulating a blow job as well as he could, probably wasn’t helping. “Please?” 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, you can.” Jeremy said. Michael grinned and released his finger, going in to kiss his neck. Jeremy moaned as Michael licked and bit him, just a millimeter too high to be covered by his shirt. Just enough that he’d have to borrow something to wear to go home. 

After he was satisfied with the hickey, he drew back. Jeremy’s eyes were clouded with lust, he looked so beautiful. Michael kissed him once, quick, and drew back to help him out of his shirt. Jeremy struggled out of the shirt like it had mortally offended him and, once free, launched back at Michael, kissing him desperately. 

Jeremy reached up and twisted his fingers through Michael’s hair once more, and it felt like electricity shooting down his spine. He never even knew he was into that. He moaned into Jeremy’s mouth and Jeremy seemed to kiss harder at that, but through the weed and the lust Michael wasn’t even sure of his senses anymore. 

Michael drew back a moment later. Somehow they’d gotten into a position so he had been leaning over Jeremy, who was practically laying down on his bean bag at this point. It was perfect, Michael slid off the bean bag so he was positioned between Jeremy’s legs. Jeremy sat up. 

“You really want to do this?” Jeremy asked as Michael struggled with the button of Jeremy’s jeans. Michael looked up at him with disbelief. 

“Jeremy, do you think I would be here on my knees for someone I _hadn’t_ wanted to blow for the past four years?” 

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. Michael pushed down Jeremy’s jeans and boxers with great effort, as the dude was still sitting on them, being no help at all, and he got a good look at Jeremy’s dick up close, already hard. 

The sane, slowed part of Michael’s brain was freaking out, overthinking. He’d never done this before, how was he supposed to do this? What if he sucked? 

Jeremy started to say something, but Michael opened his mouth and took him in, cutting off his words with a choked noise. Michael tried to take in as much as he can, but Jeremy’s dick was a respectable size and he didn’t make it quite to the base. 

Jeremy didn’t seem to mind though. Michael looked up through his lashes at his best friend, to drink him in. Jeremy blushed all the way down to his shoulders. Michael bobbed his head once and Jeremy’s hands frantically found their way to his hair, pulling him closer. 

Michael moaned. His own dick was hard enough to drill a hole through his pants, and the noises Jeremy was making were not helping his situation. Jeremy tugged at Michael’s hair, the two of them finding a rhythm of bobbing and thrusting and pulling. 

Jeremy was loud. Michael didn’t know he was into that either. 

Michael moved his hand from Jeremy’s thigh to the base of his dick, stroking whatever he couldn’t fit into his mouth. 

“M-Michael--” Jeremy moaned, “Michael I’m close!” 

He pulled on Michael’s hair, as if asking him to get off, warning him. Michael started moving faster instead, determined to make it good for him. 

“Fuck, _Michael_ \--” 

Jeremy came in his mouth. Michael paused for a moment before swallowing, making sure he wasn’t going to choke or anything. He swallowed around Jeremy’s spent cock and Jeremy whimpered from the oversensitivity. 

“How was it?” Michael asked, coming up from his knees to lean over Jeremy. He was about to lean in for a kiss, but Jeremy reached up and brushed his thumb over his chin, bringing up some come that had dribbled out without his notice. Michael licked it off. 

“That was so hot,” Jeremy breathed, “I gotta do you.” 

“You don’t have to,” Michael began, though he desperately _wanted_. He was so close, Jeremy had been so hot, so loud, he wasn’t sure he would even last long. 

“Oh my god, just let me blow you,” Jeremy whined, pulling his pants back up, “It’s so unfair, you’re still _dressed_!” 

Michael reached for the zipper of his hoodie, but Jeremy batted his hands away, unzipping it himself. He reached under Michael’s shirt to trail his hands along his body, but he apparently thought that disrobing Michael altogether would be too much of a hassle because he immediately went for the front of his jeans. 

Jeremy stroked Michael once, twice, and he moaned out Jeremy’s name, unable to form coherent thoughts with his friend’s hand on his dick. 

Michael stripped off his hoodie, it was getting way too hot, and Jeremy made a little disapproving sound before pushing him back onto the bean bag and sliding between his legs, mirroring the position Michael had just been in. 

_What was that about?_ Michael’s thoughts were interrupted as Jeremy took the tip of his cock in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Michael swore, and he wasn’t even sure what language his “fuck!” came out as, but Jeremy seemed to get the message and took more of him in his mouth. 

“Jeremy, I can’t--” Michael said, trying to explain why he wasn’t going to last long without going into biology, horniness, and just how hot the other boy looked. 

Jeremy looked up at him and Michael was sure that that image should have been illegal, it was too obscene. Sure, he’d thought about how Jeremy would look with his mouth wrapped around his dick, and sure maybe sometimes he’d gotten a little too turned on when Jeremy was drinking out of a straw, but he’d never thought it would look so _real_. 

“Jeremy, _fuck_ , I’m so--”

Jeremy hummed around him, bobbing his head as if he’d been doing this his whole life and _who taught you how to do-- why haven’t we been--_

Michael pulled on Jeremy’s hair and Jeremy, bless him, pulled away. Michael wasn’t sure how his brain would have handled seeing Jeremy swallow, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go around the rest of his life without a hard on after that. 

Mercifully, Jeremy wrapped his hand around Michael’s dick and started stroking him, his spit making it slick enough for him to go fast, faster than Michael ever had. _It must have come with practice._

“Jeremy!” Michael cried, coming in Jeremy’s fist. His vision went white. As the waves of afterglow hit him, Michael looked down to see Jeremy wiping his hand off on his own discarded shirt. 

“What?” Jeremy asked, throwing down his dirty shirt and climbing up to cling to Michael on the bean bag. “I was gonna borrow your hoodie anyways.” 

“My hoodie?” Michael asked indignantly, as Jeremy wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. In that moment, he would have given Jeremy a million of his hoodies. Not that he’d ever let him know that. 

Jeremy just let out a noncommittal noise and Michael let out a long, contented sigh. They could talk about this later, when they’d come down from their high (from the endorphins and the pot). Right now, Michael just wanted to believe that this was all that mattered. 

And as Jeremy clumsily reached forward to intertwine their fingers, he almost could.

**Author's Note:**

> please give me kudos, I need them to feed my family


End file.
